


Somewhere only we know

by heroofcanton



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Background Relationships, Les Miserable gift exchange 2016, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9050812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroofcanton/pseuds/heroofcanton
Summary: Grantaire had an embarrassing crush on an unofficial leader of an LGBT group that had meetings at the café he worked at. It was a good thing said leader found the grumpy barista incredibly fascinating. 
Just some winter fluff, along with side Jehanparnasse and Courferre.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liberaldisaster](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=liberaldisaster).



> This is a Christmas gift for the Les Mis Secret Santa exchange 2016
> 
> Merry Christmas @liberaldisaster!

Grantaire was having a good day. He finished a commission he’s been working on and didn’t want to watch it burn, so he was pleased. His cat has finally come home after a week and he didn’t even look like he’s been in many fights. Grantaire just poured some fresh water in the water bowl and replaced the stale kibbles. He didn’t really worry about his cat, because in the end, he always came home and Grantaire knew that he knew how to take care of himself in a fight if it came to that.

The cat and his painting weren’t the only good things contributing to Grantaire’s good mood, though. Eponine called that morning, telling him she finally got custody of her younger siblings. It had been a long and dirty battle, though Grantaire was sure that if there weren’t any cheques for child support, Eponine’s parents would have thrown the kids at her. Thinking about the older Thenardiers made him furious, however, and was bound to impede on Grantaire’s good mood, so he forced himself to think about Gavroche and Azelma instead.

They were amazing kids, they really were. Azelma was 16, she rocked her high school’s debate club, was in charge of the drama club and, for some reason that Grantaire would never understand, was also in the math club. She was smart and funny and she deserved so much more than the world threw at her. Gavroche was 12 and, like both his older sisters, was loud and rude and clever, and he knew it. He spent most of his time in detention for doing stupid shit like filling the bathroom on the second floor with foam, but the detentions didn’t seem to be making their desired point; if anything, Gavroche seemed to thrive every time he got a detention, probably because he had the time to plan his next stupid idea. He was great with computers and even at his young age, he was able to repair Grantaire’s laptop with a scathing look.

And now Eponine was their rightful guardian. Grantaire could sing.

So he did, loudly and horrifyingly off-key, but he didn’t give a single shit if any of his neighbours heard him. Eponine finally had the custody she spent years fighting for, and everything was going to be okay.

Grantaire couldn’t really remember when exactly it was that Eponine started sleeping at his place, but he knew it had been somewhere around the start of high school. His parents had been far too busy to notice a girl sneaking in their house once a week, but for once, Grantaire had been grateful for their ignorance. There had been absolutely no way to explain it, as he himself hadn’t really known what was happening. He had just known that Eponine needed a place to stay at sometimes and he had been willing to help out his friend. Then, her younger brother and sister had started to come along, and Grantaire had made up the bed in the guest room without really thinking about it.

They had fallen into a routine over the course of that first year: Azelma would come sleep over on Tuesday, Gavroche on Wednesday, Eponine on Thursday and then on the weekends, they would all three be there. Grantaire hadn’t minded, far from it, he had been glad for company.

He had learned how to braid hair for Zelma, had applied nail polish for her and had tried to teach her how to draw. He had discovered that Gavroche liked baking, so Grantaire had called up his childhood nanny and asked her to teach him, so he had been able to teach the kid. Eponine, Grantaire had noticed, liked flowers, though she had never and probably would never admit it. So, Grantaire had acquired some seeds form gorgeous-looking flowers and had worked on a plan how to trick Eponine into planting them. It had worked, in the end, and Eponine had ended up with a tiny garden plot of her own in the back yard. Grantaire’s parents hadn’t noticed.

When the time had come for Grantaire and Eponine to go to college, they had both agreed to stay in Paris, though Grantaire had been working on a plan of his own. He had sat his parents down and asked them for his own apartment, rather than going to student housing and even though his parents hadn’t been exactly enthused at the idea of having to pay more for rent, they had relinquished in the end.

Grantaire had informed Eponine that she could move in with him, and that Zelma and Gav would always be welcome to stay the night. Their school had been across the city, yes, but Grantaire had had a car and had been willing to drive them to school on the days they’d spend the night. Whether or not there had been any tears from any party involved on the night of that particular conversation, neither Grantaire nor Eponine would ever admit it.

Now, Grantaire was finishing up his art degree and Eponine was well on her way to become a social worker. They had moved into a (rather admittedly small) house about two years into college, so that Zelma and Gav would be able to have their own rooms if they’d ever be able to move in with them.

Grantaire grinned unabashedly as he went to air out both of the rooms, thinking back to high school and how much better things would be now. Both he and Eponine had jobs, being baristas at a local café, Grantaire had his commissions and his parents were still contributing to rent, so they were fine on that front.

Truth was, Grantaire hated taking money from his parents, hated the smug looks on their faces every time they talked face-to-face (though they even sounded smug on the phone), but he knew they wouldn’t be able to afford a house in Paris on their own, no matter how small it was. Not yet, anyway.

After having aired the rooms, Grantaire hummed to himself as he gathered his things. It was truly a testament to his good mood that he was still humming happily by the time he arrived at the Musain, shaking snowflakes from his hair.

Now, he loved that café. It was small, quaint and always smelled of cookies. He did not, however, love his job. It was something he had to do and normally he did it with a forced smile and a never-ending urge to strangle each and every costumer.

That wonderful day, however, Grantaire grinned at everybody, recommended the specials, flirted a little with old ladies and doodled delightedly on the paper cups. He thought it was a nice change, though apparently, his manager did not share his views.

“What is wrong with you today?” Montparnasse glared at him, after Grantaire told an aging gentleman that his tie worked wonders for his eyes.

Grantaire blinked innocently.

“What? I can’t be happy?”

“No. Stop it.” Montparnasse sent another vicious glare at him and then turned back to stare at a group of students gathering at the back.

“So they’re back, huh?” Grantaire asked unnecessarily, as it was obvious that they were, but he enjoyed annoying Parnasse. It was the little things in life.

“Yes,” Montparnasse gritted out, but otherwise ignored Grantaire.

It was to be expected.

The group of students that so annoyed his beloved manager have been a constant ever since Grantaire started working there and he had no idea how Montparnasse still wasn’t used to them. It was a sort of an LGBT activist group, but they also seemed to go after all sorts of other issues, as well.

Grantaire had become friends with most of them, over the years and even Eponine had begrudgingly admitted that she liked them. They were loud, but adorably so and everyone in the group was accepting of everybody and lovely. Well, almost everyone.

Their unelected leader, the most gorgeous man Grantaire had ever seen, was different. Grantaire had no idea what exactly his deal was, but he felt so drawn to the man and he knew it wasn’t just physical attraction, though there was plenty of that. Enjolras –god, just the name itself – had warm brown skin, with long blond curls that he sometimes wore in a ponytail that really should look ridiculous, but it was just hot. His eyes were blue and the intensity of the colour differed by the mood he was in. When he was sleepy, his eyes were soft ; when he was giving an impassioned speech, his eyes were like a storm, sparkling with righteous fury, and when he was annoyed with Grantaire, his eyes flashed dangerously and were the colour of a dark sky.

Grantaire was aware that he, perhaps, spent a little too much time watching Enjolras.

Maybe.

His thoughts, as he was once again gazing over at the blond curls, got interrupted by the door banging open loudly. He twisted around to see Eponine, Zelma and Gav spilling through the door, all of them grinning broadly.

Grantaire’s own grin became even wider as he hurried around the counter to greet them, even though he was already yelling loudly.

He could hear, distractedly, that the rest of the café grew silent, perhaps startled by the sudden loud noises, but he didn’t care, couldn’t care, because he was swooping Gav into his arms, yelling ‘congratulations!’. Gav, surprisingly, went along with the hug, wrapping his arms around Grantaire’s neck, yelling something that sounded like ‘we did it!’ and as Grantaire squeezed him tight, he looked up to see Eponine crying through her laughter. When he put Gav down, Grantaire pulled Zelma into a tight hug that she returned happily, already telling him all about what the social workers and lawyers said. Last, to give her some time to recover, Grantaire pulled Eponine to himself and let her half-sob half-laugh into his shoulder, as she held onto him.

He didn’t care that they were causing a scene in the middle of the work space, he didn’t give a single flying fuck that everyone was watching them; he only cared that this was his family and they were finally, legally together and nobody could ever take the kids away from Eponine.

“You did it,” he whispered into Ponine’s hair and her shoulders shook, but he could feel her nod, so he figured she was fine.

He let her go and quickly swiped away her tears, and she was grinning impossibly widely.

“-and they asked again whether we’d like to be with ‘Ponine or our parents, like we hadn’t told them like a million times before, and Gav said that frankly, a bear would be more capable of taking care of us than our parents, but that Ep was definitely qualified and that _yes_ , we want her to be our guardian, and then they finally said she could be!” Zelma was rattling on by his side and Grantaire beamed at her and high-fived Gav.

“We need to celebrate! Hot chocolate coming up!” Grantaire called and swung himself back behind the counter, studiously ignoring everyone’s gaze on him.

He did, however, sneak a glance at Montparnasse. It was totally worth it. The man was stuck somewhere between trying to act nonchalant and wanting to congratulate Eponine. They’ve known each other for a while and Montparnasse knew the absolute horrors that were the Thenardiers, but he also had this ridiculous notion that he should always act unaffected by anything.

As Grantaire went about making hot chocolate, and as the group in the back started to make their way to the counter, no doubt to see what it was all about, Montparnasse seemed to make up his mind. He took a jar of very expensive cookies, walked over to the new family and offered them the cookies.

Of course, Gav took advantage of the situation and took way more than one, Zelma couldn’t stop grinning and she actually went in for a hug that Grantaire hurriedly snapped a pic of and that left Montparnasse looking shell-shocked, even though he returned the hug, and Eponine grinned at the man, taking her cookie.

“Thanks, ‘Parnasse,” she said quietly.

He acknowledged it with a nod and a tight smile of his own, then returned behind the counter and Grantaire tried desperately not to laugh.

By that time, les Amis de l’ABC had reached them, enveloping Eponine, Zelma and Gav in a group hug, as they made sense of what had happened.

Grantaire had absolutely no idea why the group was named like that. When they had explained, years ago, he had been distracted by Enjolras and by now, he was almost afraid to ask.

They were all wonderful people, and as he watched them all try to congratulate Eponine at the same time, Grantaire smiled fondly, leaning on the counter next to the cups of hot chocolate.

The serenity of the situation was broken, however, as soon as Enjolras came to stand by the counter, looking at Grantaire with an odd, almost smug expression. Grantaire sighed, bracing himself for whatever the fuck Enjolras wanted to yell at him about this time. It was truly incredible, he found something every single time. True, Grantaire might do this thing where he says something stupid and/or offensive whenever he talks to Enjolras, so he couldn’t really blame him, but still.

“So you do care,” Enjolras said now.

Grantaire tore his eyes away from where Cosette and Eponine were hugging to find Enjolras’ burning gaze on him. God, he was even intense in casual conversation. How was Grantaire supposed to just be okay with this?

“What?” Grantaire replied dumbly, blinking.

“See, I knew there was something you care about. You’re always so cynical and pessimistic, claiming you don’t care about the world at all, but I knew there must be something,” Enjolras continued and yes, he was definitely smug. Grantaire couldn’t decide whether he wanted to punch him or kiss him.

“I think it’s adorable,” Enjolras went on, smirking.

Both, probably. Punching him and then kissing him up against the wall. Yes, that sounded good.

“You think I’m adorable?” Grantaire asked, because honestly, he wasn’t absolutely sure how he could recover from that.

Enjolras’ eyes widened and he shook his head.

“No that’s not- you’re - I don’t-“

“Relax, Apollo,” Grantaire laughed, though he just wanted to go crawl somewhere. He had that same feeling whenever Enjolras yelled at him, although he thought he preferred yelling over whatever this was.

“Enjolras, what are you saying?” Courfeyrac cried, apparently joining the conversation. “R is absolutely adorable, just look at those cheeks!” Courfeyrac leant on the counter to pinch both of Grantaire’s cheeks, speaking in a mushy voice such as people use to talk to small children.

Grantaire rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help a grin spreading across his face. You couldn’t be annoyed by Courfeyrac, not really. The man was all bouncy black curls, blinding smile with freckles across his dark skin and he had an explosive sort of energy around him, that he used for good, although people couldn’t help but wonder in horror how the world would look like if he had used it for evil.

“You’re the one to talk,” Grantaire replied, gesturing vaguely at Courfeyrac.

“Oh, I am absolutely gorgeous, nobody can deny that. Right, ‘Ferre?” he turned around to grin at his best friend, Combeferre, who was standing nearby and shook his head fondly at Courfeyrac.

Courf then bounced over to him, planting a loud wet kiss on his cheek.

“Has that happened yet?” Grantaire asked Enjolras in an undertone, watching them.

They were ridiculously in love with each other and everybody could see it, but to the frustration of literally everyone around them, they could not.

“No… Combeferre actually told me the other day that he thinks Courf might like someone,” Enjolras replied, shaking his head in bemusement.

Grantaire snorted. “Oh, wow.”

Enjolras hummed in agreement.

It occurred to Grantaire that this was actually the most civilised conversation they’ve had. Like, ever. Which was sort of sad to think about, but it was nice to experience it, so Grantaire fought down on the urge to stupidly ask Enjolras whether he liked anyone.

He was almost grateful when Eponine came over, talking about a truly spectacular movie night they were about to have. It was good, great even, that Grantaire didn’t have the option of saying something offensive to Enjolras that would start yet another argument, but he didn’t like the fact that as soon as Eponine started talking about Treasure Planet, Enjolras excused himself.

Grantaire bit down on the disappointment, he squashed his stupid feelings down where they belonged and instead focused on his best friend, whose life just changed for the better.

 

***

 

Enjolras loved mornings.

After the initial grogginess, his body adjusted to being awake and Enjolras was able to enjoy his morning routine. First, he pulled his old comfortable bathrobe over his pajamas, the one that reminded him of home and felt like wearing a hug. Then, he went to the bathroom to relieve himself, brush his teeth and was his face.

After the bathroom, he padded over to his kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee – he didn’t have to actually make it, because Combeferre and Courfeyrac once got him a fancy coffee machine that had a timer and you could set it so it made your coffee for you in the morning. It was heaven and he sent lovely thoughts to his best friends for it every single morning.

Next was breakfast; simple buttered toast with some jam, because Enjolras was a great believer in classics. Also, his mom sent him her home-made strawberry jam and it was the best thing ever.

As he ate, he scrolled through the news on his tablet, scoffing out loud and muttering to himself about the state of the world. That part was completely unintentional and Enjolras hadn’t known he’d been doing it until one morning when Courfeyrac had spent the night and kept giggling to himself as Enjolras read the news.

Enjolras’ mornings were quiet, calm and he loved them. The rest of his days would be spent arguing with his professors and classmates, trying to persuade people that just because some other people were trans or queer, they didn’t deserve to die. The other parts of his days would be exhausting and so Enjolras treasured his mornings dearly.

 

***

The best word to describe the mornings in Grantaire and Eponine’s house would be chaos. It wasn’t even organized chaos, though the two adults tried very hard for it to be so.

Eponine was doing about three things at once: she was on the phone with her mentor for an internship she was doing, making toast and tried to braid Azelma’s hair. Azelma, in her turn, was standing impatiently in front of her sister and tried to snag Grantaire’s cup of coffee as he quizzed her for a pop quiz she would have that day. Grantaire was packing lunches, tried to think of questions for Azelma and did his best to convince Gavroche not to blow anything up. The kid was doing something at the kitchen table that was making a lot of noise and was sort of hissing, which was never a good sign when applied to Gavroche.

In the end, the lunches were packed; Eponine came to an agreement with her mentor and braided her sister’s hair into something pretty. Azelma was successful in her attempts to get her hands on Grantaire’s coffee when the man left it on the counter to confiscate Gavroche’s experiment.

The door slammed shut behind the Thenardiers as Eponine drove the kids to school and Grantaire sagged against the counter.

He loved the kids, he did and he adored Eponine, but he was not a morning person. His head was buzzing and pounding at the same time, he felt a bit nauseous because he didn’t have time for breakfast, only coffee and the fact that he still had to deal with the mess that was the kitchen did not help.

Grantaire yearned for quiet mornings where he could sleep in and maybe take a shower that wouldn’t be interrupted.

He sighed, running a hand over his face. When he opened his eyes, his gaze fell on the fridge, where they kept drawings from the kids when they were younger and both their report cards. There was another item there, a copy of the official document saying Azelma and Gavroche were Eponine’s.

Grantaire smiled and even though he still had a headache and the mess didn’t magically disappear, he was happy, and knew for a fact, that he would never trade the kids for anything. They were family and yes, they were chaotic and sometimes felt like a hurricane, but he loved them and they loved him.

 

***

 

There was a café that Enjolras loved. When he had first started going there, he didn’t really think much of it, but then it grew on him. They started having their meetings there and so he started associating the Musain with Les Amis and anything associated with his friends was dear to him.

Working at the café, there was a man that confused Enjolras more than anything. He insisted that he was not a part of their group and that he didn’t care about anything, yet most of the time, he came from out of the counter to stand near the back of the café and offered his opinion on whatever matter they were discussing. Of course, Enjolras didn’t like his opinions, as they were cynical and pessimistic, but there was something about the man.

His name was Grantaire, he had a mess of hair and eyes as green as a forest in the summer and his opinions were infuriating. He was also an artist and Enjolras deliberately ordered his coffee from him, just to get a drawing on his cup.

Sometimes, the drawings were cute and at other times, they featured Enjolras himself in ridiculous situations. One time, Grantaire drew him as Liberty leading the people and Enjolras laughed in delight.

He could swear that sometimes, Grantaire was flirting with him, but then he would abruptly change his demeanour, smirking at Enjolras, rolling his eyes and taking his arguments apart with alarming ferocity.  

Enjolras couldn’t figure him out, and he felt drawn to the man. He knew Grantaire lived with Eponine, a girl that truly terrified Enjolras, and her siblings, but he knew they weren’t together – he asked, once. He was met with Eponine’s blank stare and Grantaire’s laughter.

He wanted to get to know Grantaire, wanted to know why exactly it was that the man felt the urge to oppose to everything Enjolras said, even if he knew for a fact, that Grantaire agreed with him. He wanted to know everything about him, how he looked in the morning when he just woke up, how he looked when he was painting, how his hair would feel under Enjolras’ fingers.

So, he went about it the only way he knew how.

 

***

 

Grantaire frowned down at his sketch and scratched his chin as he thought. He needed a shave, he could feel his stubble under his fingers, but he didn’t really care. He couldn’t figure out how to approach his new commission and it was getting on his nerves.

Never mind that his manager was doing a weird mating ritual right next to him.

It was incredibly odd seeing Montparnasse flirting. Usually, he was composed, his dark features carefully arranged in a nonchalant mask, but when he was around Jehan, it was like he was a different person. Well, his pretty face was still carefully arranged in a nonchalant mask and if Grantaire didn’t know him as well as he did, he wouldn’t know there was anything different. But Grantaire did know him and seeing Montparnasse like this was weird.

He was leaning oh-so casually on the counter, twirling a finger around Jehan’s long hair. He was murmuring quietly, his gaze adoring and soft on the young poet.

Soft.

Now there was a word Grantaire never thought could be applied to the man. Yet there he was, soft as a kitten. Grantaire knew that if he ever voiced this particular opinion, Montparnasse would throw a cup of scalding coffee at him.

Jehan was reciting poetry now, in a low voice that was meant only for Montparnasse.

Grantaire knew this, and he was very aware that he was standing right there, next to them and that he was probably a nuisance to them, but really, if they wanted privacy, they shouldn’t be doing this in a crowded café.

“What are you working on?”

Grantaire blinked and looked up to see Enjolras smiling at him.

He blinked again.

“I, uh. A sunset. Just got a commission this morning and I wanted to get a head start. Knowing me, I’ll probably still be working on it till the night before it has to go out, but… I, um, I wanted to at least have an idea of what exactly to paint…” he trailed off, getting lost in Enjolras’ intense gaze.

“I could help you with it,” he said, still smiling.

What.

“What.”

“I could help you. I know a place we could go, there’s an amazing view of the sunset and you could get an inspiration. If you want,” Enjolras offered and he kept maintaining eye contact and it did things to Grantaire.

“Oh,” Grantaire breathed and nodded before he really knew what he was doing. “Sure, that sounds great. Uh, when are you free?”

_This is not a date. Not a date, not a date, not a date, R for fuck’s sake. Not. A. Date._

“How about tonight? I’ll pick you up after your shift, if you have time.”

“Sounds great,” Grantaire was able to say.

_Not a date, stop it. Not a date._

“It’s a date,” Enjolras grinned and walked away.

_Ah fuck._

 

***

 

Enjolras smiled to himself as he walked from the Musain. He treasured the look on Grantaire’s face and shook his head fondly. Yeah, he was pretty sure the man was into him now; he seemed struck at the idea of going to watch a sunset with Enjolras, but in a good way. He knew it had been a good idea to commission a sunset on Grantaire’s webpage.

This was good.

He went to Combeferre’s place to get some coffee, and was not in the least surprised to see Courfeyrac there. His two best friends were annoyingly in love, but what was maybe even more annoying and frustrating was that they didn’t know it.

Combeferre stared fondly at Courfeyrac as the man told a story, gesturing wildly and grinning broadly. Courfeyrac, in turn, checked out Combeferre’s ass every single time he had the chance to. He also traced Combeferre’s tattoos, while licking his lips, for god’s sakes.

Courfeyrac bought Combeferre’s favourite flavour of tea, randomly gave him second-hand books because he knew how much Combeferre loved them. He always acted like he just happened to have come across obscure books, but Enjolras knew he spent a lot of his time in old second-hand bookshops, annoying their proprietors into getting his hands on rare editions.

Combeferre made sure he always had a new documentary ready, because when they watched documentaries, Courfeyrac snuggled into him and fell asleep before the ending, which meant Combeferre could gaze adoringly at him even more. He bought glitter-covered donuts, even though he didn’t really like them. Enjolras thought it had a lot to do with how enthusiastic Courfeyrac became when he saw them and how he managed to get pink, glittery frosting on his upper lip when he ate them.

He loved his friends, he did, but sometimes they made Enjolras want to scream because they were so infuriatingly oblivious.

Just now, as Enjolras stepped into Combeferre’s apartment, Coureferyac was sitting on the counter, his long legs dangling in the air and he was grinning while gesturing. Combeferre was leaning on his fridge, smiling fondly at Courfeyrac.

“Hey, Enjy!” Courfeyrac said, just to annoy Enjolras further.

“Hello,” Enjolras responded, ignoring the stupid nickname.

“What would one hypothetically wear on a date?” he asked and bit down on a grin as both his friends turned to look at him with raised eyebrows.

“You finally asked Grantaire out?” Combeferre asked with a smile.

“How-?”

“Oh please. You were being very obvious. Well, to us, you were being obvious,” Combeferre explained, inclining his head at Courfeyrac, who had jumped off the counter and was making his way to Enjolras, grinning manically.

“I’m gonna put so much glitter on you, you have no idea,” he crooned delightedly, pulling Enjolras into a hug.

“No glitter.”

 

***

 

Enjolras was…shimmering.

Grantaire narrowed his eyes at the man as he approached him on the street. Yep, there was definitely glitter on his cheekbones, which, really, totally unfair.

Honestly, Enjolras’ cheekbones were already god-like and it really wasn’t fair that now they fucking shimmered, as well.

Grantaire pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on, shoving his hands in his pockets and smiled at Enjolras.

“You’re shimmering,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

Enjolras grimaced and closed his eyes, shaking his head minutely. There was glitter on his eyelids as well.

Fuck.

“Never, ever ask Courfeyrac for help getting ready. Seriously, the man has a supernatural ability to acquire glitter,” Enjolras said, but he was smiling now.

Grantaire grinned.

“I like it,” he said, because apparently his brain hated him and had absolutely no idea what a brain-to-mouth filter was.

“Good,” was all Enjolras said and yeah, Grantaire was so far gone.

They walked through the streets of Paris in a comfortable silence and, as Grantaire had no idea where they were going, he tried to stay as close to Enjolras as possible. That was the reason he was sticking to in case anybody asked.

If their hands brushed a few times as they walked, well, Grantaire was smiling for completely different reasons. He couldn’t think of any, because his mind was focused entirely on how warm Enjolras’ fingers were, but that wasn’t the point.

Enjolras led them up a narrow cobbled street, across a tiny park and then they arrived at some communal gardens. They walked next to the garden, now talking about a book they’ve both read – they disagreed on what the author meant to say, but they were used to disagreeing by now.

Finally, after having walked up a small, but steep hill, covered in a thin line of snow, they came to a stop. There was a tiny bench on top of the hill and Grantaire watched as Enjolras wiped the snow off and pulled a blanket out of his messenger bag, slinging it across the bench.

They sat down, close together because otherwise they would fall off and Grantaire would feel like he was in heaven, if he believed in that kind of thing.

It was quiet and lovely. It wasn’t the best view of Paris, but it was nice nonetheless and to be honest, Grantaire would love anything Enjolras showed him. The sun was low on the horizon and it seemed they were just in time to see it set.

Next to Grantaire, Enjolras was warm. Their thighs were pressing together, as were their shoulders and torsos and Grantaire had to concentrate to keep his gaze on the sunset. It was difficult, what with Enjolras right there and especially because he could feel the man’s eyes on him.

He watched the sunset, because that is why Enjolras brought him there.

He could feel Enjolras shifting next to him and he thought the man was uncomfortable, but then a hand found his. Grantaire squeezed back and felt a smile spreading on his lips.

It was the easiest thing in the world to turn his head to look at Enjolras. The man was smiling at him and he was so, so close.

It was even easier for Grantaire to bring up his free hand to cup the ridiculously handsome face, brushing a thumb over his cheek. Enjolras leaned into the touch and pressed a kiss into Grantaire’s hand.

Then they both leaned into each other, lips brushing against each other gently.

 

***

 

Combeferre found himself looking at Curferyac once again. He’s been in love with his best friend for years now and he didn’t know how much longer he could bear it.

Courfeyrac was literal sunshine and unbound energy, exploding like a glitter bomb and Combeferre loved every aspect of him. He loved how Courfeyrac talked with his hands, how he grinned brilliantly at him when Combeferre said something funny and he loved how ridiculous the stupid pink icing made him look.

He loved it when Courfeyrac leaned into him, he loved that somehow, they seemed to always be touching in some way and he loved how smart his best friend was. Courfeyrac was able to quote archaic laws, as well as Combeferre’s favourite authors and he knew as much about Beyoncé as he did about Shakespeare.

He was endearing and lovely and Combeferre was in love with him.

He knew Enjolras knew, though they never talked about it.

He also knew that one day, he would stand at Courfeyrac’s side at his wedding and delivered a toast that would make everybody cry. He knew that on that day, his heart would break even further, but he knew that it was how it had to be.

Courfeyrac didn’t feel the same about him and there was absolutely no reason to disrupt their friendship because of Combeferre’s feelings.

 

***

 

Courfeyrac agreed to watch a documentary about penguins with Combeferre, because he knew Combeferre really wanted to see it, but also because that gave him the best excuse for cuddling.

It was sort of their thing.

They watched a documentary, Courfeyrac would pretend to be sleepy, lean on Combeferre and then lean into him, snuggling him and then pretend to be asleep. Sometimes he fell asleep for real.

He loved Combeferre with the same passion he did everything else and it was consuming him.

Combeferre was wonderful.

He was smart and clever and quiet and had a dry sort of humour that never failed to make Courfeyrac laugh. He loved books and he had tattoos and glasses and he was too good for Courfeyrac.

He was in love with him and he had no idea when it happened. Maybe he’s always been in love with Combeferre. It sneaked up on him and before he knew it, he was imagining living with Combeferre.

They’d get a dog and they’d adopt a kid, maybe two. He had no doubt Combeferre would make an amazing dad and a wonderful husband and Courfeyrac wanted that future so badly it hurt.

He was fantasising about that again as he pretended to be asleep while Combeferre watched that penguin documentary. Combeferre was sitting on the couch with his feet on the coffee table and Courfeyrac was curled up next to him, with his head on Combeferre’s chest and Combeferre’s arm wrapped around his shoulders.

It was so easy to imagine a future with Combeferre.

As he pretended to be asleep, Courfeyrac felt lips brush against his hair and he almost opened his eyes in surprise. He was glad he didn’t, though, because otherwise he wouldn’t have heard what Combeferre said next.

“I love you so much.”

The words were whispered and full of emotion and Courfeyrac couldn’t stop the smile spreading on his face.

He turned his face upwards to see Combeferre’s frozen expression.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, smiling so broadly it almost hurt, but he didn’t care, because now Combeferre was smiling too.

Combeferre loved him.


End file.
